Hanging out with boys

I am wary of Biscuit the Beagle because he has on a few occasions humped my leg and arm. But I allow him to rest his head on my leg and his left ear is all flopped onto Jake’s knee. He is calm and I am relaxed at the moment.

The boys are yet again discussing sports and super hero comics/movies/games. This season is football and we’re approaching Super Bowl Sunday so this shit is important! I add to the conversation when I can guarantee that I’ve been following along properly. Sometimes when I have absolutely no idea, their words just stop registering altogether.

I’ve noticed lately that after years of stumbling blind confusion, I actually am beginning to understand the concept of football. I don’t know any of the ref or announcer terms (besides “touchdown” and “flag”) but I know the basic objectives of the players—essentially I know what they got to do. I don’t really care to know more but knowing has certainly made watching games far more interesting. I consider it a phenomenon almost.  It makes me wonder anyway.

A game is on but with this notebook in front of me, I find no need to know who is playing or why/how/where blah, blah, blah.  I’m just trying not to squish Biscuit whose head is now resting under Jake’s and my knee cracks. He’s warm. I enjoy his company.  A pet is always good to have around. Their friendship and company can be far more wholesome than most human interaction. My body draws healing energies from Biscuit the Beagle. But I don’t want to squash his face in. 

Biscuit looks up and regards the room. Pushing his head back between his legs, his eyes are so concerned—his brow furrows. He is probably in wanting of pets and so I give him some. When he moves away I turn my focus to the football game. I ask who is playing and the boys think I am referring to a Chicago Bulls game playing on the computer. I ask them more specifically and it turns out the answer is everyone. It’s a pro-ball game. Oh.